Facets of an Emerald
by Maddeline Kirkland-Bonnefoy
Summary: - America convinces Ireland to keep an online journal. She doesn't know how to feel about this, but she decides to go along with it anyway. Read the entries she makes, and gaze into the Facets of an Emerald. - Rated for current and future themes, as well as Ireland's tendency to swear. My version of Ireland (and thus an OC).
1. Chapter 1

4/4/14 –

It seems as though lately everyone has a blog, journal, or something of that sort online. What happened to just writing something with pen and paper? It's the only way to truly keep anything private; on the internet, anyone can read anything you post, if they know how to get to it. But, I suppose saying any of that, in this medium, makes me quite the hypocrite, aye? I know it does, but that doesn't change what I think on the subject.

That said, America has been pestering me to start something like this, so I guess it couldn't hurt… It isn't as if anyone will actually read this, after all. Scotland, Wales, and I are the Canada of Europe; no-one remembers that we exist. No matter that we are England's elder siblings; no matter that the three of us have been through just as much – at times more than – most of the other, younger European nations. Again, not that it matters, but still.

To deviate from serious topics, America and I are talking about video games as I type this. We both have somewhat of an unhealthy obsession with the _Kingdom Hearts_ game series. He's played through two-thirds of _Birth by Sleep _on his PSP, but is procrastinating on playing Aqua's part. I keep offering to play it for him, but I understand why he wont let me. As for myself, I'm working my way through _Kingdom Hearts I_, though I really can only play when I'm at Alfred's place. More often than not, though, I watch him play _Kingdom Hearts II_, and we talk about how much of an idiot Sora is.

But then, I try not to spend too much time with anyone other than my older brother Scotland. (May God have mercy on my soul if he ever finds out that I'm in love with him...) He understands parts of me that no-one else would get. Not that I believe anyone would care to, but I digress… Whenever I spend time with Alfred or Arthur (we're… working on trying to patch up our relationship), it always ends the same way. Someone mentions eating, I make some excuse, and then… Shit hits the fan, as America is so fond of saying. It isn't as if I consciously choose not to eat, it's just… After so many years of famine and plague and war and death, I don't know how to care about myself anymore. In the end, though, it will always be something of an issue with us; none of them wants to outright accuse me of an eating disorder (I _am_ still their sister, after all), and I just… don't know what to think anymore.

All of that said, I should probably finish this up… Arthur came over, and both he and Alfred are talking about a compromise for dinner. (Arthur wants to cook, and Alfred wants fast food; the thought of either makes me want to throw up.) I want to avoid the screaming this time, but… I doubt that it will happen.

Until next time, I suppose…

– Erin Kirkland,

Republic of Ireland.


	2. Chapter 2

4/7/14 –

It's quite early, barely dawn. As I sit here and type, I try not to gaze at the blonde occupying the bed behind me. There was a fight, between Arthur, Alfred, and I, but Alfred quickly left Arthur to it, and my brother quickly gave in. He just seemed so… tired of our constant fighting in the past years. Little was said, for the rest of the evening, and then Arthur and I returned home. I stayed with him, as a gesture of apology – something my pride would not have allowed even five years ago, but my pride was weary, too, by now. We had spent nearly an entire century in constant war, but now… now we were slowly beginning to move on, to try and patch things up.

It is something like having a wound so very deep, that it hardly even bleeds… and then trying to sew it back together again. It will take time, and infection sets in easily, but eventually it will heal, the scar tissue forming thick and new above it. Though I'm no damn, stupid optimistic fool, I can't help but find a tiny glimmer of hope. That was how I found myself in my current situation. I gave in to that tiny shred of hope. I just hope that this time, Arthur doesn't burn me for doing so. I know he has never intended to physically hurt me – save for that mad time of the Great Famine, from 1845 to 1852 – but emotionally and mentally are two very different things. Though none of us like admitting it, least of all Scotland and myself, being the eldest, but we Kirklands happen to be extremely vulnerable emotionally and mentally…

So aye, that was how I ended up sharing a bed with my baby brother, though insomnia prevented me from sleeping. We hadn't done this since the time of Henry VIII, the bastard, and not under kind terms since we were children, and our Mother Britannia was still alive. Now, I look at him, seeping relatively peacefully, and I think that he is extremely insecure. But then, it was my insecurity that kept me from sleeping. I love him more than I can ever say, even though not romantically, but I don't think we can ever return to the love we shared as children. Too much as happened to us – he has done too much to me – over the years. And yet… maybe, if we can, then it will take many more years.

Unfortunately, I don't know how much longer we have to try, before Fate sets us at war once again - whether as humans, or as nations.

Until next time,

– Erin Kirkland,

Republic of Ireland.


End file.
